


What Is Mine, But Belongs To You?

by solversonlou



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Top Oswald Cobblepot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 22:11:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18583600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solversonlou/pseuds/solversonlou
Summary: "Penguin and The Riddler, the kings of Gotham."The development of Oswald and Ed's relationship over the years, post-series.





	What Is Mine, But Belongs To You?

After Gotham is saved, there's a momentary calm among the city.

It won't last. The villains will forget their temporary allyships and return to a life of crime, but at least it'll be in a city still standing.

Despite this, they remain a team, Penguin and The Riddler, feared by rivals and citizens alike.

Shortly after the city is saved, they return to their homestead for much needed rest. 

Ed brushes by Oswald in the hallway, stopping momentarily to speak, the two of them facing each other, shoulder to shoulder in a way, discounting the height difference.

"Oswald," Ed's lips part, like he wants to say something, but doesn't quite know how to put his thoughts into words. Swallowing, he blinks down at Oswald, taking in his one working eye, curious as he peers up at him. "I just wanted to say thank you. For letting me stay here... for agreeing to be my ally... my friend."

Oswald's face shifts into a tight lipped grin, eyes lighting up, a little giddy on his feet. He nods, gives Ed a few light pats on the arm before gripping it softly, running his thumb absentmindedly across the material of his suit, "We may have come back for Gotham, but I'd like to think that our friendship was part of it."

Ed's lips curl into a soft smile, before stretching into a grin as he chuckles, "Perhaps fate put us together."

Oswald smiles, dropping his hand from Ed's arm. (There's a loss of sensation that comes from it on Ed's part, like he misses the touch.) Nodding, Oswald presses his hand to the door handle of his room, "Goodnight, Ed."

Ed's slightly faltered smile brightens, "Goodnight, Oswald."

\- - -

They're eating dinner, a celebration after the initial celebration.

Oswald had thrown a party. One last hurrah for the criminals and GCPD before the inevitable breakup and return to chaos.

Ed hadn't gotten the chance to play the piano, too busy playing civil with Lee and Jim Gordon. He wasn't exactly bitter anymore, just annoyed about the whole stabbing thing.

Now, he had the opportunity to play, having stuffed himself full of turkey and drunk as much as he could of the expensive wine that Oswald had hidden from the party guests, saving it just for them.

Oswald lights up when Ed sits at the piano, staggering slightly as he rises to his feet from where he'd been laid out on a couch, clasping a goblet of wine like a mixture between a French prostitute and an aristocratic vampire.

Ed's singing voice isn't exactly pitch perfect, especially in his tipsy state, but Oswald's chest soars at the sound of it, leaning against the piano for support as Ed belts out 'Dream A Little Dream Of Me.'

Oswald finds himself singing a long, loud and joyous, grinning from ear to ear as Ed gazes up at him, mirroring his happiness, drunk on warmth and expensive wine, indulging in the company of each other.

"Play with me," Ed says, after the song is done and their laughter has died down. He's leaning against his folded arms, cheek pressed to the forearm of his shirt, his jacket having been left draped over the back of the dining room chair he'd eaten on. 

Oswald is a little taken aback by the suggestion. Not to mention how utterly precious Ed looks, hair a little messy, glasses slightly askew as he smiles up at him, cheeks pink from laughter and the wine in his system. Oswald swallows, lets out a small laugh, unsure if Ed is joking or not.

"Come on, Oswald," Ed extends out a hand, fingertips brushing against Oswald's forearm where he's leaning against the top of the piano. "I know you can play."

Oswald shakes his head, laughing, "Oh, I only know songs that my mother taught me. It's memory more than it is talent."

"I'll show you," Ed insists, fingers grasping around Oswald's wrist, drawing Oswald's eye towards him. He gazes up at him, eyes half lidded, lips parted, hopeful, and Oswald's face flushes hot at the sight of him.

"Well, alright, I suppose," Oswald agrees, moving towards Ed, who shifts over on the piano stool, one long leg hanging off to make enough room for Oswald's shorter frame.

Oswald presses an odd key, the note ringing in the air, and he laughs, a little nervous, arm pressed up against Ed's as they sit side by side.

"Do you know how to play 'Hot Cross Buns'?" Ed asks, turning to look at Oswald, whose brow furrows, lips parted, confused. Ed laughs, pressing the first note of the song with his forefinger. "It's an English nursery rhyme. For Easter."

Oswald shakes his head, amused by Ed's odd draw to this song in particular. He'd expected something like Doris Day or Billie Holiday, not a nursery rhyme. Still, he follows the movements of Ed's fingers, long and elegant, pressing the simple, repetitive keys as he sings.

"Hot cross buns, hot cross buns," Ed sounds absolutely mad as he sings, but Oswald finds it charming. "One a penny, two a penny! Hot cross buns!"

Ed grins when he finishes the short song, like an excited child who'd just performed for their school talent show. He turns to Oswald, who's just smiling, one eyebrow raised, like he isn't quite sure what to make of it.

Oswald's eye widens when he feels Ed's hands, warm and laying over the top of his own, guiding them to the piano keys. Inhaling sharply, he shoots up a little straighter, Ed's fingers twining between his own, nudging his forefinger to press the starting key.

Ed guides Oswald's fingers through the song, singing along with the notes, nudging Oswald with his elbow a little until Oswald is singing along, a little quieter than Ed, but still getting it.

When the song is over, Ed's fingers still upon the piano keys, remaining there even as Oswald's instinct is to pull away, scared that Ed might think him strange to keep them there.

Ed squeezes Oswald's hands, meets his eye and smiles at him, warm and hazy, leaning close enough that Oswald can smell his cologne at the fruit of the wine he'd consumed.

Inhaling sharply, Oswald blinks at him for a long moment, before finally pulling his hands away and laughing nervously, rising to his feet, a little unsteadily from his bad leg and the alcohol and the sheer event that had just occurred, "Well, thank you for that. I'll be sure to remember that for whenever I have to babysit British children."

Ed huffs out a small laugh, blinking languidly as Oswald downs the last of his glass of wine, standing across the room with his back turned to him, "Oswald, you know when you said you hoped our friendship was partially what brought us back to Gotham?"

Oswald pauses, his empty glass dangling at his side as he swallows. Turning slowly, he gives Ed a quizzical look, a response without actually saying anything.

"It was entirely the reason I didn't get on that submarine," Ed says, eyes casting to the piano keys, cheeks burning hot, voice a little quieter, embarrassed. "I didn't want to leave without you, and... when we hugged... I had a knife... I could have stabbed you, but I didn't."

A shaky breath leaves Oswald's lungs, his lips parting before moving into a touched smile-smirk, eyes bright and chest soaring. He laughs, a little louder than he'd expected, and it makes Ed jump, eyes darting up to him. Shaking his head, Oswald chuckles, speaks, "I was going to stab you too!"

Maybe he sounds a bit too overjoyed at that particular part, but he clarifies, easing Ed's concerned look towards him, "But! But, I didn't! I couldn't. Gotham may be my home, but you, Edward... you've become that for me. A home."

Ed chews the inside of his lip, recalling the conversation before their hug, "Like a family? Like brothers?"

Oswald purses his lips, head tilting a little, cringing at his past choice of words. Perhaps it'd been his underlying fear at a negative reaction from Ed which had made him use those words, "Well, maybe brothers in arms. Not literally brothers, of course."

Ed's face cracks into a grin, arms outstretched across the piano, lounging on it like a giddy lounge singer after one too many cocktails, which isn't far from the truth, actually. He giggles, hiccuping a little, "Oswald, will you play another song with me?"

Oswald smiles, "Of course, Ed."

\- - -

They're squabbling.

Oswald had woken up in a bad mood after one of Barbara's new gang members had attempted to assassinate him the night before. He'd ended up stabbing the woman in the chest and declared a war upon Barbara Kean, truly signifying the end of the truce in Gotham.

Ed is not at all pleased with the beef being reignited, hoping to have at least a few more weeks without needing to deal with chaos and destruction.

"I hardly think you're one to judge, Ed," Oswald rolls his eyes, sucking jam off his fingertip, the two of them eating breakfast in the kitchen. "How many rivalries have you restarted? I'm surprised you haven't tried to kidnap Jim Gordon in revenge for Lee stabbing you yet."

"It isn't about me, Oswald," Ed hisses, hand slapping the table, cutlery and plates shaking with the movement. He frowns from over the top of his glasses, staring directly at Oswald, who's a little taken aback by his level of seriousness. "I don't care if one of Barbara's Spice Girls tries to stab me on the street, I just don't want them coming here, where we live, and trying to kill you."

Oswald's head jerks back a little, brows drawn together, confused. He scoffs, "What? I suddenly can't handle myself now?"

Ed exhales, jaw clenching as his eyes shut, "I know you can I just--"

"Seriously, Ed?" Oswald shakes his head, leaning back in his chair, throwing his napkin up off his lap onto the table like an insulted dinner guest in an old English novel. "I dealt with it last night, I think I can deal with one again."

"Yes, but maybe not all of them!" Ed's voice raises an octave, stopping Oswald in his tracks. Eyes opening, Ed meets Oswald's gaze, his own eyes soft and sad. "I know you can handle a lot of things, Oswald, you've won almost every gang war you've been in, but it's always been with help. Nameless goons who do your bidding, and I know you have some now, but Barbara has more. It's mostly just you and me here, and I don't..."

Oswald, rendered silent by Ed's outburst, tilts his head, lips parted, eyes expectant as he awaits Ed's words. 

"I don't want you to die in a war of your own creation," Ed says, voice cracking a little. It's possibly the softest and most vulnerable Oswald has seen him, and he'd seen him at a lot of pivotal emotional points. "Oswald, if they killed you, I'd reverse everything we fought for. I'd burn this whole city to the ground."

It's with those words that Oswald's chest feels an old but familiar tug, and he's diving headfirst back into the feelings that he'd tried to suppress for so long, terrified of another repeat of before. Terrified of rejection, of being weak.

Exhaling though his nose, Oswald nods slowly, processing Ed's confession. Standing up, he crosses the table in what feels like a lifetime, and he stops before Ed, who watches him move with soft, scared eyes.

Oswald's hand presses to Ed's shoulder, thumb warm against the exposed collar bone peaking out from his button up pajamas. He squeezes Ed's shoulder, his lips curling into a soft, reassuring smile, eyes watering, overcome, "Ed, I promise... I will build us an army if that's what it takes to keep us safe. A following bigger and better than the last."

Fingers reaching up, Ed clasps Oswald's hand on his shoulder. His thumb brushes across Oswald's knuckles as he turns his head to look up at him, comforted by Oswald's reassurance. He smiles, a delighted glint in his eye, "Penguin and The Riddler, the kings of Gotham."

Oswald's lips stretch into a grin, "We'll be the last people anyone wants to cross."

\- - -

Their goons are hired at first, but word gets around and the criminal underbelly are growing resentful of Barbara and her minions. It's partially misogyny from some of the older male criminals who feel intimidated, but mostly it's people sick of being pestered and annoyed by her crew.

It takes a while for Oswald to win back the trust of a few past acquaintances, like Mr. Freeze, who reluctantly agrees to join him again, not wanting any part in Jeremiah's insane manifesto.

Word gets around that Penguin and The Riddler are creating quite an empire for themselves.

Following a successful heist of diamonds, the two of them are ecstatic, and Oswald books out a lounge downtown, one he's close to purchasing, purely because he misses owning a place to drink and celebrate, surrounded by like-minded criminals and deviants, who wouldn't judge him for getting roaring drunk and singing to his heart's content.

He invites Ed of course. After all, Ed is his second hand man. The king to his king, of sorts. (Barbara had scoffed when he'd said they were the kings of Gotham, had thrown in a remark about hoping she gets an invite to the wedding. Oswald had rolled his eyes and Ed had just gone quiet, frowned.)

The club is packed, exclusive and invite only. 

Oswald is socializing with guests: his henchpeople who toast to him and thank him for their many riches. He feels like Robin Hood, but one that reaps the benefits of money himself, so a hypocrite, essentially.

Not that he cares, happy to act under the guise that he's helping when he's lining his own pockets whilst his minions get much less for more work.

Ed is across the lounge, drinking a cocktail and enjoying the live band when he zones in on Oswald, through the crowd.

There's a man with him, tall and square jawed, dressed like a waiter, and there's something about him that makes Ed feel uneasy. Everyone around them is shady, willing to stab someone in a split second, but this man sparks another side of Ed's suspicion. 

Oswald is laughing, eyes casting from the man's face to the ground, like a giddy schoolboy with a crush, and Ed doesn't like it one bit.

Ed tries to pull Oswald aside, distract him from the man who he seems to be so utterly captivated by, but nothing seems to work. Oswald keeps brushing Ed off or another guest tries talking to Ed, sidetracking him.

So Ed stands and ferments in his own bitterness, drinking and making sure to glare at the man whenever he glances over at him.

He gets an opportunity at one point, when Oswald has wandered off, to get the man aside, and he goes in full force, not even introducing himself with a false pretense of niceness.

“What are your intentions with Oswald?” Ed growls, voice lower than he’d expected, catching himself off guard.

“Excuse me?” The man lets out a nervous chuckle, brows knitted as he looks the taller man up and down.

“Don’t play cute,” Ed squints, lips tugging into a frown, clearly unimpressed. He leans closer, getting into the man’s space, hisses. “Oswald is a very important, very busy man. He doesn’t need some minimum wage lowlife bothering him.”

“You sound jealous,” the waiter grins, amused by Ed’s display. “I suppose you’d love to know that he's invited me for dinner tomorrow night.”

Ed’s stomach drops.

Before he can even think of what to say, Oswald is hobbling over to them, a big grin on his face when he sees them together.

“Ah, Ed, I see you’ve met Jeff!"

_Jeff... Jeff?!_ Ed wants to scream.

“Yes, and I was just saying goodnight,” Ed swallows, turning to Oswald, who looks up at him with concerned eyes.

“Oh no, are you coming down with something?” Oswald places a hand on Ed’s arm, a minute gesture that makes Ed wonder if he should stay. Leaning close, Oswald lowers his voice. “Was it the clams? I know how seafood upsets your stomach.”

Okay, Ed is definitely leaving.

Exhaling, he brushes Oswald off, “No, I’m just tired. I’ll get a cab.”

“Nonsense,” Oswald waves a dismissive hand before turning around and signalling to a large man in all black, one of their trusted chauffeurs. “Yusef will take you home! Good job he doesn’t drink, unlike the rest of the people I pay specifically not to do that!”

He sounds like he’s trying to let said people know, but none of them are in earshot. Swallowing, he turns back to Ed, clasps his arm and pulls him into a tight hug, like he’s trying to squeeze Ed to make him stay.

Ed lingers in the hug, hands moving to press to Oswald's back, gripping the material of his jacket. He meets Jeff's eye over Oswald's shoulder, lips curling into a smirk, a warning.

"Goodnight then," Ed smiles as he pulls away from the hug, nodding at Oswald as Oswald smiles up at him.

"Goodnight, Ed," Oswald bids him adieu, watching as he leaves with his driver in toll.

\- - -

"Where are you going?" Ed questions, frowning at the back of Oswald as Oswald adjusts his tie in the mirror of the parlor. 

"I told you, I'm having dinner with Jeffrey," Oswald explains, straightening out his waistcoat, frowning at how tight it feels around his middle. "Do you think I've gained weight?"

Ed ignores the question, too preoccupied with his own intrigue, "Jeffrey? The waiter from the club?"

Oswald exhales, pinching at his sides in his reflection before turning to Ed, brow furrowed, "Yes, why? Does his class status bother you?"

"Not at all," Ed throws up his eyebrows before looking towards the book in his lap, pretending to be disinterested in Oswald's affairs. "Are you going to offer him a job?"

"No," Oswald says, shaking his head as he turns back to the mirror. He's wearing a lot of eyeliner, perhaps too much. He rubs a finger over his eyelid, trying to blend it in. "It's called socializing."

There's a brief pause, and Ed looks up from his book, side-eyeing Oswald, "Is it a date?"

Oswald freezes, fingertip hovering over his eye before slowly lowering it and adjusting the tails of his waistcoat, "Possibly."

Ed's jaw clenches, fingers curling a little harder around the leather binding of his book. It takes a second for him to relax, act natural. Forcing a smile, he places his book down on the couch besides him, turns to Oswald, "Well, good luck. I'm pleased for you."

\- - -

Oswald is giddy with excitement when he returns home, the day after his date, smelling like lavender soap and his hair slightly damp.

It's obvious as soon as he walks through the door that something had happened between him and Jeffrey, and Ed's stomach sinks at the sight of him.

There's a bitter taste in his mouth as he looks up from his breakfast, watching as Oswald happily shoves a slice of toast into his mouth. Ed puts his own food down, suddenly not feeling hungry as he watches Oswald take a seat and grin to himself like a child.

Ed doesn't say anything, just collects up his plate and tips his half eaten food into the trash. 

Oswald throws him an odd look, "Are you sick?"

"No," Ed says, placing his plate in the sink. He'll let their maid deal with it later. Washing his hands, he tries not to engage with Oswald too much, his cold shouldering obvious and unsettling.

Oswald frowns, his mood squashed by Ed's behavior, "Are you mad at me?"

"Not at all," Ed lies through his teeth, drying his hands off and turning to Oswald, before leaning against the sink. He folds his arms. "Just a suggestion, maybe you should call next time you plan on staying out all night. Just so I can prepare the business affairs without you here. For convenience sake."

Ed smiles at him, and it's maddeningly false. 

Oswald looks confused and slightly annoyed, "We don't have anything planned. We've recruited most of the criminals in the city."

"Well," Ed shrugs, making his way across the room towards the door. He stops before he leaves, hand pressed to the handle, "I just hope this Jeffrey isn't too much of a distraction for you. Wouldn't want people thinking you're too busy to be the King of Gotham."

Oswald's frown deepens as Ed leaves, his mood well and truly ruined.

\- - -

It's been a few months since Oswald had met Jeffrey.

There's been nattering among their crews that Oswald had become distracted, had become weaker, so Ed was the one having to pick up the slack.

It's infuriating to Ed, who's left having to deal with Barbara's gang and every other opposing criminal group who tries to move in on their turf, basically by himself.

Sure, Oswald still kills people, but it's mostly his own men when they make a passing comment about Jeffrey, who has now practically moved in and is dressing in designer clothes that Oswald buys for him.

Ed is reaching the end of his rope. He's had to sit and watch Jeffrey sit on Oswald's lap and kiss him at breakfast. He'd walked in on them half undressed in the parlor a few days ago, and ever since he's been avoiding Jeffrey at all costs, only directing his words to Oswald, who seems unfazed by the fact that Ed had seen Jeffrey kneeling in front of him with his fingers on his belt.

Ed reasons with himself that he's only angry because Oswald is distracted and so the empire they've built is weaker now. That's the reason he feels sick every time Oswald comes into the office with messed up hair, or he sees Jeffrey walking through the hallways in nothing but a bathrobe. 

It doesn't explain why he's overcome with the urge to shove Oswald against a wall and kiss him whenever Jeffrey is out of sight, but Ed buries those feelings down as far as they'll go.

And so, Ed has to stew and keep his mouth shut as to not anger Oswald and destroy their empire even further. He doesn't know what to do. Every time he mentions Jeffrey, Oswald gets all lovey eyed and sentimental, like he's known the man for years and not literally three months.

It isn't fair, how much attention Oswald is giving the man.

Ed hates it. He hates Jeffrey more than he's hated probably anyone. 

He thinks about killing him, of smothering in his sleep and making it look like something tragic. He'd have to make it discreet. 

He saves the violent fantasies for when he's particularly angry, sitting and thinking to himself about slitting the man's throat and watching as his blood spills from his neck. In most of these fantasies, Oswald is happy, his own fingers covered with Jeffrey's blood as he presses them to Ed's cheek, smearing it on Ed's face and across his lips before craning up to kiss him.

He's snapped out of the fantasies by Oswald, who points out that he's been grinning to himself like a lunatic for the past five minutes.

Ed will have to find a way, a reason to get rid of Jeffrey. 

Oswald won't forgive him if it's senseless.

\- - -

"I'm going to do it tonight," Jeffrey says, voice low as he leans against a large pillar in the entry hall of the house, rooms away from Oswald and his crew. Eyes shifting around, he checks the coast is clear before pressing his lips closer to the corded phone. "Yes, Miss Kean. I'll make him suffer."

\- - - 

The sound of the shower running and bedside clock ticking just adds to his nerves as Jeffrey sits on Oswald's bed. His eyes move to the pillows, then back to the en-suite bathroom door, palms sweating.

"Oswald, I have a surprise for you," Jeffrey calls out after a while, a sing-song tone to his voice.

The sound of the water shutting off follows, then footsteps walking across tile. 

Sitting up in anticipation, Jeffrey's hand inches closer to the pillows, about to reach under, when the door to the bathroom opens. Looking up, his mouth drops open, brows furrowed, confused by the sight before him.

"Hello," Ed's lips curl into a smirk, combing a hand through his damp hair, water dripping down his long, exposed neck. 

Eyes following the lines of Ed's torso, Jeffrey realizes that the man is wearing the deep, emerald green bathrobe that Oswald had bought for him, the initials _J.M._ embroidered on the breast pocket.

"Ed," Jeffrey smiles, acting the innocent party as he tilts his head. "Your shower not working?"

Chuckling, Ed lowers his head, shaking it as he dries the moisture off his hands with a towel. Dropping the towel to the floor, he adjusts the robe around his collar, letting it fall open a little wider, the pale expanse of his chest visible.

Jeffrey leans back a little, lips pursed, "Ed, if I'm correct about what you're trying to do, I'm flattered, really... but I'm with Oswald."

Ed's footsteps are slow and methodical as he swishes across the room, seductive. He stops just short of Jeffrey, whose eyes shift from Ed to the pillows, then back to Ed again.

Holding his left hand out in a stopping motion, Jeffrey closes his eyes, smiles politely, "Ed, please. I don't want to have to embarrass you."

Leaning down, Ed presses his lips to Jeffrey's ear, hand on his shoulder. His eyes trail towards Jeffrey's right hand, watching as it inches under the pillows.

Jeffrey's eyes widen when he feels Ed's lips press into a smirk, panic flooding through him as his hand grabs at nothing but sheets.

Ed's right hand presses the tip of a blade to Jeffrey's throat as he growls, voice low in his ear, "Looking for something?"

It's a quick succession of movements, Jeffrey grabbing Ed's arm, the two of them rolling onto the bed, struggling against each other for a brief moment, before Ed is on top of him, pinning the shorter man under his weight, knife under his chin. 

"You idiot!" Ed's voice rises, pressing the knife firmer against Jeffrey's skin. "Try not using the landline of the person you're planning to kill next time, you complete moron."

Jeffrey's eyes are wide, terrified, and the sight of it is exhilarating to Ed, watching him squirm underneath him after months of playing innocent.

Knife trailing down Jeffrey's neck, cutting the skin shallowly, Ed presses the blade to the his chest, spits through gritted teeth, "You really thought you could take down the King of Gotham? What were you gonna do? Kill him then kill me?"

Jeffrey splutters, eyes squeezed shut, "Just him! It was just revenge! You weren't the target!"

Looking up at Ed, Jeffrey's eyes seem to grow even more horrified by the sight of him, animalistic, seething.

"Well, you really should have killed me first, Jeffrey," Ed says, tone shifting as he nods down at the sniveling man beneath him. "Oswald and I have been through things that you couldn't even begin to understand."

For a moment, Jeffrey wonders if Ed is going to let him off with a warning, but then he's opening his eyes again, and Ed's elbow is reeling back, blade shining in the sun.

"We are the kings of Gotham!" Ed yells, driving the knife through Jeffrey's chest, reiterating each word with a new violent stab. "We have been through hell and back, and I will not let anyone take what we have away from us!"

Ed feels the warm spray of blood hit his face, but it doesn't stop him. He drives the knife into Jeffrey, over and over, watching in delight as the man splutters up blood, gurgling beneath him.

"You're nothing!" Ed growls, pulling the knife down Jeffrey's chest, splitting his torso open, violent and unrelenting. "I'm all that matters to him! Just me! He loves me!"

The sound of floorboards creaking and a glass shattering snaps Ed out of his blind rage, vision clearing around the edges.

Jeffrey is still beneath him, body limp, the life having left his eyes God knows how soon after he'd initially started stabbing him.

Twisting his shoulders, Ed turns, blinking through the blood smeared across the lens of his glasses. Head tilting to the side, he drops the knife in his fingers, metal clattering to the floor. Mouth spreading into a grin, he laughs, eyes brimming with a look of sheer adoration, unhinged, "Oswald, you're home!"

A raw yell erupts from Oswald, and Ed frowns, confused by his reaction. 

Darting across the room, Oswald flings himself at him.

The two of them struggle on the mattress, jostling Jeffrey's body onto the floor as they fight against each other, Oswald clawing at Ed's face, trying to cause as much bodily harm as he can manage during the scuffle.

It isn't long before Oswald has him pinned to the mattress, fingers pressed tight around the length of his throat, squeezing hard against his windpipe.

Ed chokes, hands scrambling to grab at Oswald's biceps, trying desperately to choke out his name. His vision turns white, legs kicking out beneath Oswald's weight, one bloody hand reaching up to grab the back of Oswald's head, yanking on his hair, pulling his face down, closer to his own.

Oswald lets out a muffled noise against Ed's mouth, eyes wide as Ed practically slams his chin against his own, trying to get across a message without being able to speak.

Fingers relaxing around Ed's throat, Oswald's eyes slide shut, feeling Ed gasp beneath him, breath hitting his lips. He lets Ed breathe for a second, noses bumping together, Ed's bloody fingers touching his cheeks.

"He was-- Barbara," Ed breathes out, voice hoarse as he fists one hand into the material of Oswald's waistcoat. "She sent him. I couldn't let him..."

Oswald gasps, lips pressing into a grin, eyes brimming with tears. His fingers, bloody from where he'd touched Ed's skin, press to Ed's face, pulling him up to press their mouths together again, firm but tender, a proper kiss.

Ed melts into the touch, eyes sliding shut as he kisses him back, the taste of copper on his tongue as he opens up to him, hips rolling up to meet Oswald's own.

\- - - 

The shower water is hot, beating down on the two of them, Jeffrey's blood swirling down the drain. 

Oswald cranes up to kiss Ed, pressing him against the tiled wall.

Ed's fingers curl around Oswald's arousal, hot and hard against his hip, reveling in the way Oswald gasps against his shoulder, teeth grazing over his flesh.

Oswald ruts against him, Ed's own cock sliding against his thigh, their hands mapping across each other's torsos, fingers bumping over scars from their past, the healed over stab wound in Ed's back, the wound from where Ed had rejected Oswald's love.

All of the ugly, raw things that had brought them to this point, aching for one another for so long.

Oswald comes with a gasp, spilling onto Ed's stomach and knuckles, reaching up to kiss him again.

Ed follows shortly after, groaning Oswald's name, cheek pressed to his temple.

\- - -

"Oswald, why the hell did you bring me to this god forsaken pier again?" Ed exhales, the smell of salt water in the air as boat horns blast. Peering across the water, he tightens his grip on Oswald's hand, uneasiness in the pit of his stomach.

"I know I said I never wanted to see this place again," Oswald explains, squeezing Ed's hand reassuringly. He places his other hand on Ed's arm, guiding him towards the edge of the pier. 

Ed would be suspicious if he hadn't spent the past two years at Oswald's side, fighting through thick and thin, ruling over Gotham. He trusts Oswald, more than anyone in this city, more than anyone on Earth.

Wrapping an arm around Ed, Oswald gestures towards the water, the night air cool as it breezes by them, "This place has bad memories, but those memories are what brought us closer, made us who we are today."

Inhaling deeply, Ed nods, leaning closer into Oswald's side, wrapping his own arm around Oswald's shoulder. Ed's voice cracks a little when he speaks, "The thought of hurting you now... I couldn't do that, Oswald."

"I know," Oswald smiles, rubbing a hand over Ed's arm. "I didn't want this place to be just bad memories."

The lights from the city cast over the dirty water, sparkling in a way that's oddly beautiful, and Ed feels a sense of comfort in the sight of it. Gotham at its core should be ugly, but there's a pull there, a kinship of sorts. No matter what happens, it's home.

"You're my home, Ed," Oswald says, releasing his grip on Ed, shifting to slide his hand into the inside pocket of his coat.

Turning to him, Ed blinks, wondering for a brief moment if Oswald is reaching for a weapon, the thought turning his stomach.

It's only when he sees the small box in Oswald's hand, does he realize what's happening, "Oh."

"Edward Nygma," Oswald says, voice a little shaky, nervous. He smiles, trying to appear calm and failing miserably. Struggling to open the box for a moment, he eventually manages it, revealing a deep, purple diamond encrusted band, masculine but flashy. Looking up at Ed, Oswald's eyes are bright, full of admiration for the man before him. "Will you marry me?"

Ed's soft, surprised expression shifts to a grin, eyes brimming with tears from behind his glasses. The methodical, cold persona he so insisted he had was nonexistent now, overcome with joy. Nodding, he steps closer, "What is mine, but belongs to you?"

Oswald's brows furrow a little, chuckling. He realizes quickly that Ed is telling a riddle and he lets out a small scoff, shaking his head, "Really?"

Ed chuckles, placing a hand over Oswald's where he's gripping the box. He meets his eye, lips pressed into a warm smile, "It's my heart."

Glancing down at the hand around his own, Oswald tuts, laughing as he shakes his head. Meeting Ed's eye again as Ed releases his hand, he plucks the ring out of the box, "I'll take that as a yes then."

"Of course," Ed grins, holding out his hand for Oswald to push the ring onto his finger.

Placing an arm around Oswald's back, Ed pulls him in for a kiss, Oswald's hands reaching up to cup his face.

\- - -

"Maybe if I wasn't surrounded by incompetent morons who can't seem to understand the difference between amaryllises and lilies, we would be on schedule!" An irate Oswald yells, spraying crumbs everywhere as he taste tests the fifth cake of the day.

Ed sits next to him at the dining table, unperturbed by his fiance's behavior. He's learned to let Oswald deal with the arrangements and mostly has been sitting there looking at how the light hits the purple of the ring on his finger. 

They've had a few disagreements over the wedding, mostly due to Ed killing the only wedding singer Oswald actually liked because she called Ed unstable. Luckily, Ed had found another one, who strikingly resembled Oswald's late, dear mother, and Oswald was satisfied.

Their followers had been skeptical of their relationship at first, worried that it would distract them from their roles as crime lords, but they soon put an end to the worries when they committed possibly the biggest heist in Gotham history and had even confined Jim Gordon to psychiatric leave for a while.

Now, everyone seems to either be loyal or terrified of them, especially the people hired to meet Oswald's ridiculously high demands.

"Maybe we should hire a poison taste tester," Ed suggests, watching as Oswald shovels another handful of cake in his mouth. Oswald has certainly put on a few pounds in the past few years, not that Ed minds all that much, he just wishes he wouldn't be so untidy with his methods of eating. 

"You're absolutely right," Oswald says, voice muffled by the cake in his mouth. He swallows, takes a swig of wine. "God knows Barbara or everyone's favorite Catgirl has it out for us."

Reaching into his breast pocket, Ed pulls out a handkerchief, leans over to dab at the crumbs at the side of Oswald's mouth, "Catwoman."

"Yes, yes, of course," Oswald waves a dismissive hand, leaning his face into Ed's touch, content in being looked after. "If that pestering bat shows up, I'm going to burn him to the ground."

"I'll be right behind you," Ed grins, tucking his handkerchief back in his pocket before leaning in again and pressing a kiss to the corner of Oswald's mouth.

\- - -

The wedding is an absolute shitshow, to say the least.

Just as they finish saying their vows, a sniper takes out the minister, and the guests scatter, reaching for their weapons.

Jeremiah Valeska is standing in the middle of the aisle by the time Ed and Oswald collect themselves, coming out from behind the broken pillars that had been blown up with small grenades, debris and dust everywhere.

"Jeremiah Valeska, I will tear that leathery face clean off your corpse!" Oswald screams, shooting at the man dressed in full clown makeup, hobbling across the church as Jeremiah's laughter rings through the air.

Ed stays close behind Oswald, ducking bullets from Jeremiah's henchpeople, taking out a few of them himself as the sound of police sirens wailing in the distance grow closer.

"Oswald, leave it!" Ed growls, grabbing Oswald by the arm as Jeremiah flees through the backdoor, stopping Oswald in his tracks.

"And let him ruin our wedding?!" Oswald yells above the chaos, eyes wide, tugging his arm away from Ed. A bullet ricochets off the wall besides them, and Oswald practically jumps out of his skin, grabbing Ed and ducking to the floor.

"GCPD, everyone get down!" Jim Gordon's voice yells through the church, followed by the sound of armed police officers running around, holding hundreds of Ed and Oswald's followers, as well as Jeremiah's, at gun point.

"Oh, for God's sake!" Oswald hisses, climbing off of Ed's back, rising to his feet. He grins, extends out his arms as he calls out. "Jim! You got the invite!"

"Yeah, congratulations," Jim says, tone sarcastic as he gestures towards a few officers, turning his attention to them. "Find Jeremiah. We can deal with the rest of them later."

A gunshot rings through the air.

A scream tears from the back of Ed's throat, raw as he watches the bullet rip through Oswald's side, blood spilling through his wedding suit. 

Rushing to Oswald, Ed envelopes him in his arms, the two of them sinking to the floor. 

"Jeremiah!" Jim yells, raising his weapon as he rushes across the church, officers in tow.

"Oswald, can you hear me?" Ed pleads, tears stinging his eyes, palms bloody as they press to the entry wound.

"Ed," Oswald croaks, weakly, fingers gripping onto Ed's biceps. "Ed, are we married?"

"What?!" Ed doesn't know why he's asking that at a time like this, panic in his voice as he shrugs off his wedding jacket. He balls it up, presses it to Oswald's wound, trying to stem the bleeding.

"The minister," Oswald explains, head woozy as he gazes up at Ed, fingers reaching to touch his cheek. 

"Yes!" Ed says, tears staining his cheeks. He cranes down, presses his lips to Oswald's forehead. "We finished the vows before he was killed. We're married, Oswald."

A wheeze leaves Oswald's chest, breath shallow as he buries his face into the crook of Ed's neck, "I love you, Ed."

"I love you too, Oswald," Ed's voice cracks, the sound of all the chaos around them fading into silence, Oswald's breathing the only thing he can hear.

\- - -

"This food is despicable," Oswald complains, poking at the mushy, grey substance on his plate. He pushes the tray table away from him, turning over in his hospital bed. "Honestly, this is worse than Arkham."

"I'll get you some cake from the market," Ed says, sitting at Oswald's bedside. There's stubble on his cheeks from how long he's been sat at Oswald's bedside. Oswald didn't like it.

"You should be at home, taking charge of our people," Oswald tuts, picking fluff off his pajamas. "They'll be wondering where their king is."

"Looking after the other king," Ed reasons, reaching a hand across the bed. 

Oswald's lips curl into a soft smile at the words, fingers twining with Ed's, "I can take care of myself."

"I don't doubt that," Ed says, thumb running across the back of Oswald's knuckles. He exhales, presses a kiss to Oswald's wrist, feeling the pulse point under his lips. "I was so scared, Oswald."

"I know," Oswald exhales, voice soft as he cups Ed's cheek. "But we need to do what we do best."

"Revenge?" Ed quirks a brow, perking up a little. He leans over, on his feet, presses a hand to the back of Oswald's head, smiling down at him.

Oswald grins, squeezing Ed's shoulder before reaching up to kiss him, "Revenge."

\- - -

It's been six years since they got married.

Six years of ruling, then not ruling, of assassination attempts and murder, of chaos and destruction, and neither of them would change it for a second.

They both still get that rush of adrenaline, even as they've grown older. 

Oswald still catches himself smiling when the light catches the green in his wedding band, a splash of Ed's signature color to match with his own purple.

They still squabble and bicker, like they always have done. Many nights, Ed has slept on the couch, but they always end up back in their shared bed. (Replaced after Jeffrey's murder, of course. Although, there's still blood stains on the floorboards under the rug.)

Ed's fingers still curl into silk sheets, hips moving down in circles as he rides Oswald, breathing out his name, still rendered weak by the weight of Oswald pressed inside him.

They reign once again, the kings of Gotham.

Oswald kills anyone who comments on his weight. Ed kills anyone who comments on him being unstable. They kill anyone who tries to cross them both.

Penguin and The Riddler, side by side.

"What is mine, but belongs to you?" Oswald asks, lips pressed to Ed's bare shoulder, arms wrapped around him as they lay together, the early morning sun streaming in through the windows of their bedroom. 

Turning over, Ed smiles, pressing a palm flat to Oswald's chest, feeling the thrum of his pulse, "Your heart."

**Author's Note:**

> i have no faith in this show so here's the ideal before inevitable disappointment


End file.
